


you awoke into my night

by madnessiseverything



Series: the others [1]
Category: Sagas of Sundry: Madness (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dreams vs. Reality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Pre-Relationship, what's what? who knows? certainly not them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:32:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessiseverything/pseuds/madnessiseverything
Summary: Selina dreams of people, dreams of them every night. A young painter with shaking hands, nervous giggles and marks up his arms that he struggles to cover. An actress with dark lips, darker eyes, and biting words. A businessman with cigarettes, sarcastic grins, and sharp suits. A playwright with furrowed brows, reassuring words, and fast fingers.She sees them in her waking life, too, in the mail room, in the hallways, the lobby. She never really talks to them, but she watches, watches and wonders.or the one where Selina knows people but doesn't know them at the same time.





	you awoke into my night

**Author's Note:**

> i finally did it! this has been sitting in my docs for so long, and i've finally gotten around to posting part one! i absolutely adored sos: madness and have so many ideas. thanks a whole bunch to my two lovely friendos kay and skye for giving me feedback <3  
> i hope you enjoy :D
> 
> (title from IAMX - Insomnia)

Selina dreams of people, dreams of them every night. A young painter with shaking hands, nervous giggles and marks up his arms that he struggles to cover. An actress with dark lips, darker eyes, and biting words. A businessman with cigarettes, sarcastic grins, and sharp suits. A playwright with furrowed brows, reassuring words, and fast fingers.  
She sees them in her waking life, too, in the mail room, in the hallways, the lobby. She never really talks to them, but she watches, watches and wonders.

Fenly has paint on his clothes, on his fingers, his face. He talks, a lot. He smiles, too bright for their building, too bright for the ever grey outside. He waves at her, introduces himself twice, always greets her in the halls. He hosts parties, sometimes, and sometimes she thinks about saying yes. She has, in the past. They’re small, quiet, there to talk and drink. Not many show up, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His hopeful smile remains. Selina wonders how he got here. Wonders if he hides the marks she dreams about beneath his layers, wonders if they are real at all. She wonders if his steadfast promises are as forthright in this world as they are during her nights.

Abigail has plenty a smirk to share whenever their eyes meet across the mailroom. Her hair falls into sparkling eyes. She doesn’t talk so much as comment, should she think it appropriate. She nods, raises her hand on good days, where smirks almost seem like soft smiles whenever Selina catches them thrown her way. Selina doesn’t wonder about Abigail. She knows the name is as fake as the cold shell, knows the reason people come to buildings like these. She does wonder if Abby’s voice can be as soft as her dreams make it out to be; if her whispered words can truly carry in this world as well.

Jude has reserved nods, a necklace that forever dangles in front of his pressed dress shirt. His fingers fumble with his cigarettes the moment the entrance door falls shut behind him, grey suit matching the sky outside. His breaths are slow, yet anxious when he walks past the front desk, past Selina on the lobby couch. His smiles are rare, his mouth pulled into a thin line most days. Selina knows it’s the guests, the ones she’s heard Jude complain about to Abby in the mail room. Selina wonders about him, wonders why a man of his position bothers with these apartments. She wonders if he is as brave and ready to lead as her nightly adventures have told her. She wonders if his readiness to protect is what got him here in the first place.

Emmett has faraway looks, half-hearted waves. His jeans are ripped at the knees and his eyes always seem to search the rooms he enters. He talks, sometimes. They’re quiet words of greeting, stilted questions about wellbeing and the day’s routine. He smiles reservedly, nods along and leaves with a look over his shoulder. His hands fumble with receipts that fall out of his hands from time to time. Selina knows where they are from, wonders if the old dates are sentimental or an error. His quiet footsteps feel like fleeing. Selina wonders, wonders so much about him. She wonders if his unwavering belief is as strong in this awful world as it is in her nights, wonders if his reassurings are as calming as her brain made them out to be. She wonders if the reason he jumps at corners and ghosts is the same reason he hides out in this building.

x

Selina listens to them talk in her dreams, watches them, stays with them. They speak more freely, desperation forever coloring their voices as their words bleed into each other every time Selina tries to follow conversations. She doesn’t remember why everything seems so utterly terrifying in her dreams, doesn’t remember why everyone talks with haste and fear.  
She remembers other things they say, though.

Fenly talks about a boyfriend, a man with harsh words and violent hands. A man with power and control where Fenly lacked both. A man that extinguished his cigarettes against Fenly’s bruised skin, threats ringing through the room and echoing in his mind. Selina knows she wants to find the man and make him pay for the scars, for the flinches and the panic Fenly shows. She wants to make him pay for the haunted look Fenly gives doors. Instead, she gives Fenly trust and he smiles at her so bright that the marks on his arms fade in the light of his hope.

Abigail talks about her father, talks with anger and loud words and her hands wrapped tightly around something. Her father, who calls her Kathy and laughs at her from the sidelines. Her father, who she thinks she killed, she doesn’t remember, she says. Selina knows of not remembering and doesn’t prod. She doesn’t flinch when Abby’s anger bursts forth, averts her eyes when Abby swings at the wall. She clutches Abby’s face afterward, talks, whispers, promises. She returns Abby’s anger with pleas, asks her to understand that it’s okay. Abigail’s tears leave black streaks down her cheeks.

Jude talks about Jordan, about someone gone before their time. He cries, loudly, then lights a cigarette with shaky fingers. He takes the blame, takes it with tears still in his voice and conviction vibrating through the air around them. Jordan, who should have people celebrating his life, should have people knowing of his fate. Selina tells him, promises him, that it wasn’t his fault. She isn’t too sure how she knows, how she can be so certain if Jude so vehemently believes the opposite, but she knows. She reassures him, calls it what it is - accident, not his fault, not your fault Jude, you don’t deserve this - and lets him smoke.

Emmett talks about a friend, Sam he says, a woman he found in an alley with her heart gone still and skin long cold. He talks about the late night breakfasts he used to have with her, talks and shakes and flinches at noises Selina doesn’t hear. He talks about the phone number still buried in his room somewhere, never once looked at again. Selina listens, doesn’t mention the words she remembers from sometime else. Emmett misses Sam, he says, misses her a lot but that’s it. He doesn’t mention that he still sees her in his bathroom, hears her screaming at him, doesn’t talk about it. Selina lets him, arms wrapped around his shoulders to steady them both.

It’s hard to keep her dreams separate, it gets harder to pretend she doesn’t know these things about her fellow tenants, hard to look at them and make it a passing glance. She wonders if what she knows is even real, if it isn’t her lonely mind weaving stories to make her forget reality. after all, how much can she really trust herself?

But it’s okay, she thinks. Something that makes her feel this complete, something that feels so right and makes her feel like she is worth something, cannot be bad, right? So she watches, listens, wonders.

x

They interact sometimes too, in her dreams. It makes it all too real, Selina thinks. It’s one thing to dream of her tenants talking to her, of them opening up, spilling their secrets. It’s another to watch them do it with people other than her.

Fenly smiles at Abigail, innocent and unsure. She fixes his jacket, checks for bruises and awkwardly pats his arms when he refuses to pull up his sleeves. He thanks her when a steadying hand clasps his, she smiles.

Jude claps Emmett on the shoulder, exchanging quips with him as they walk. Emmett slams a crowbar into a shadow with gritted teeth and pulls a stunned Jude back. The two share private looks over Fenly’s stuttered questions.

Abigail leaves her hand on Jude’s thigh, head tilted as he speaks. She laughs at his jokes, rolls her eyes with fondness deep in them. Her head buries itself in his shoulder as she sobs, whispers of her past tumbling through her tears.

Emmett inquires about Fenly’s wellbeing, repeats promises of “it’s okay, we’ll get through it” that calm the hiccuped breaths of the younger man, removes an old cassette from Fenly’s shaking hands. Fenly looks at him with wide, bright eyes and responds with smiles.

Jude hauls Fenly up, steadies him against the wall, fingers pressed to his lips to keep quiet. Fenly clings to Jude, hands twisted in his suit jacket. Emmett holds Abigail close, hands on her shoulders. She tugs him closer, out of sight, a free hand reaching out to Selina. She crashes into her four friends and they huddle against the bricks, eyes searching each other and hearts jumping in their chests.

Selina wonders why it feels right, normal to be so close. She hears Abigail press her forehead into Jude’s arm with a barely audible exhale, watches Fenly lean his head back and glance at Emmett, feels Emmett’s hands on the small of her back. It’s silent, their breathing ragged yet muted as they wait.

When she wakes, Selina still feels their warmth in her limbs, feels their hands on her skin. They don't scare her like the voices do. They warm up the chill of fear she carries within her during every waking hour. And while she wonders about them, wonders about her dreams, wonders so much, she doesn't dare wonder what dreams without them would feel like.

**Author's Note:**

> part two is still in the works and university deadlines call my name. but i hope to post more madness fics in the future :D come yell at/with me on either my [main tumblr](http://madnessiseverything.tumblr.com/) or my [critical role tumblr](https://nottanothercritter.tumblr.com/).


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